


Oversized Shirts

by Quillium



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: 5 + 1, Because that's my weakness, Ben's there in spirit, But it's okay, Peter has a fear of people close to him leaving, So he steals clothes, and fluffy, lots of fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-06
Updated: 2017-08-10
Packaged: 2018-12-11 17:55:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11719512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quillium/pseuds/Quillium
Summary: Or, 5 times that Peter wore someone else's clothing, and one time that he wore his own.





	1. Ben

**Author's Note:**

> Hoooomecoming!!! Um, yeah, so it's now officially my newest obsession.

It starts with Ben.

Peter's 14 and he's crying and quiet and May can _see_ the way that he's trying so hard to pretend he's not shattering, and all she can do is hold him and run her fingers through his hair, whispering that it's not his fault even as he clearly believes that it is.

She _wishes_ that she could tell him something to comfort him, something that will magically make him better, but May's tired and sad and just a tiny bit broken (but she's lying to herself, isn't she? She's long past broken) so she just sobs in his hair, and they both pretend that they're not crying, neither really believing it, but kind enough to say nothing (or maybe just too tired to say anything).

It's cold, and the heater's not quite working right so May just reaches out for the closest thing and wordlessly hands it to Peter, and he tugs it over his head and it's only when he actually has it on that she realizes that it's _Ben's_ , warm and brown and thick and too big for Peter but he keeps it on anyways, pulling it over him as though it's Ben, not a jacket, and May can't help but cry even harder when she realizes that it still smells like Ben's cologne.

They stay there for a long, long time, holding each other, and smelling the cologne, and just remembering that there's still someone there (desperately trying to forget that there's someone who isn't, a little gap in the niches that they've carved for themselves).

When Peter goes to the funeral, dark bags under his eyes and the jacket still hung over his thin frame, May acts like nothing happens (it has absolutely nothing to do with the over sized tuxedo that was Ben's hanging over her own shoulders, nope, not at all).

And when he bustles around the house the next week or so, he's always wearing a baggy t-shirt that doesn't quite fit him right, none of those cute little science jokes or puns, just overly serious polo shirts that don't quite fit him but remind May of Ben anyways (it seems everything reminds her of Ben, these days).

And when he wakes up at night a while later, drenched in sweat and trying to pretend he wasn't screaming Ben's name, May is ready for him, and when he slips on an oversized t-shirt once again, she never comments, never teases him.

Later, when someone comments that they can donate the clothes, she glances at Peter, who's still not quite comfortable without the loose fabric, the long jackets and the long since faded smell of Ben's cologne.

"No thanks," she answers, soft and regretful but kind and sweet and understanding, all the same. "I think that I'll hang onto them for a while."

And for a while, Peter clings, falling asleep in Ben's old shirts and eating dinner with t-shirt sleeves hanging past his elbows.

Then Ben's killer is caught by Spider-man, and Peter begins wearing his own clothing, quiet and unsure, like he doesn't quite know what his own clothing should feel like anymore, but May can see in his eyes that he can't be bitter, can't resent anybody, not even himself, and he understands a bit more that he can't cling to the past anymore.

And it's good (because May's therapist says so, and May's gut agrees).

Peter doesn't wear Ben's clothes much anymore (though more often than not, she'll catch him sleeping in them, the baggy shirts chasing away nightmares as he clings to the wrinkled fabric) but May knows, it all started there.


	2. May

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I'm right here." She repeats, firm and solid and reminding him that she's there for now, and, "Isn't that enough?"
> 
> Peter stares at the screen, features blank and scared and numb and guilty all at the same time, and then he says, voice small but certain, "If you die, it will be on me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Back to the Future MINOR SPOILERS

May's next.

She's not sure why or how, but she doesn't question it. (Maybe because she realizes the timing, it's right after Pepper Potts was kidnapped and Tony Stark had to rescue her, and maybe there's something in Peter that doesn't want to forget that May is still there, still alive.)

It's not that he just wears her clothes, either (though he looks stunning in that cute little number that drapes just above his waist, buttoned neatly and still a bit too big for him), but his touch lingers on her, and his eyes do too, curious but mainly _needing_ , just a little reminder that May is still there.

(And she allows it, lingering back, reminding herself that her baby boy is still here with her, even if Ben isn't.)

She bears with it in silence for a little while, just drinking in Peter's presence, and to be completely honest, not caring that Peter wears her clothes as long as they're returned.

Then one day, she's doing the laundry and realizes that Peter's clothes aren't in the laundry hamper.

What he's wearing is. But what is _for him_ specifically, isn't.

It's all her clothes, her's and sometimes Ben's, that oversized shirt he insists on sleeping in, her jacket that she's mostly given up on wearing (though she knows that he'd give it back if he thought that she wanted it, she doesn't want to take this away from him, doesn't want to make him feel guilty, not after they just got past that stage), the pale green scarf that he sometimes buries his face into when he thinks that the world is too bright and loud and overwhelming (those nights where touches to his back make him flinch and May's voice has to stay a gentle whisper).

And though she _wants_ to be okay with this, _wants_ Peter to feel safer, she knows that she can't keep up this charade forever.

She knows that Peter can't take comfort in clothes, understands in the back of her mind that it isn't healthy, that Peter needs more than just some cut cloth to make him feel safe, needs to let Peter know that May isn't so breakable. (But Ben was breakable, wasn't he? And can't May be as well? But she can't think about that, because if she does, she knows that she'll only remember that _Peter_ is just as breakable, just as fragile.)

So, maybe it's an intervention.

Or maybe, it's just a gentle reminder.

Peter's next to her, rewatching  _Back to the Future_ and spilling popcorn over their floor (but she can't judge him, because she's spilling too, and he offered to sweep the floor anyways), one of her oversized shirts hanging over his knees again, and something in May's chest  _twists_ as she reaches out and presses her hand against him, the soft whisper of, "I'm right here," escaping her just as Doc Brown is shot.

Peter does something that's a bit of a flinch, mostly just coming back to the real world, mostly just remembering that May's still there, that she's okay and it's Doc Brown on the screen (and the Doc will be fine anyways), but he squeezes her hand back and whispers, "What about when you're not?"

And May wants to scream, wants to rip the world in half and mend it back again and do  _something_ to take out the absolute terror in his voice, the way that it shakes and his whole body along with it.

"I'm right here." She repeats, firm and solid and reminding him that she's  _there_ for  _now_ , and, "Isn't that enough?"

Peter stares at the screen, features blank and scared and numb and guilty all at the same time, and then he says, voice small but certain, "If you die, it will be on me."

" _Never_." May says, and Peter stares at her, long and hard, and fingers the collar of his shirt (her shirt) before he nods, slight and imperceptible.

He lets out a small breath, loose and shaky, and then he whispers, "Just... at night, then? I'll wear... something else... during the day."

She kisses him on the forehead and responds, lowering her voice to match his, "Take your time. Just remember that I'm right here, okay?"

"I know you're here, it's just..."

"You don't need to remember me just yet, Pete." May grins, shaky and a bit forced, but still wide and loving and fond. "Not while I'm still here making those memories."

And Peter nods again, small and cautious, and he wears her clothes a few more times, but later, he comes out to breakfast with a dumb science pun on his shirt and May can't love him any more than she already does, but she loves him for that all the same.

"Right here?" He murmurs as he pours a cup of milk, and May smiles behind her cup of coffee, blowing lightly on it before agreeing.

" _Right here_."


	3. Ned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are a lot of times where Ned will catch Peter curled up in some corner or frozen on the ceiling and walls, breathing but not breathing and trying so hard but the air just won't come out and his head is dizzy and his breath is catching and his chest is thrumming and he can hear everything but hear nothing.
> 
> Ned knows that he can't touch Peter so he just pulls off his sweater and stretches his arm out, quiet and accepting and patient. 
> 
> (And sometimes Peter thinks that Ned's too good for him, but he never says it out loud because he knows that Ned will just roll his eyes and make an argument strong enough that it will somehow prove him wrong and make him laugh.)

Ned, for his part, knows about Peter wearing other people's clothes.

"If it helps you with your PTSD," he shrugs, smiling encouragingly at Peter, "Then I don't really see the problem."

Peter takes this as a go, of course, and after a spectacular sleepover a week or so later, playing Mario Kart and LEGOS and watching the Princess Bride (which they spend most of the time quoting at each other and flirting horribly), Peter steals Ned's Nightwing hoodie and wears it to class a week later.

Flash, obviously, teases him about how it's too big for him and talks about how it hangs past his knees and how Peter has to roll up the sleeves, but Peter can't really care, not when it smells like Ned, with the scent of plastic and pizza and cardboard boxes clinging to the sweater.

" _Dude_!" Ned exclaims, scowling when he notices, and Peter thinks for a moment that he's messed up, that Ned's seriously mad and he shouldn't have done that, but all Ned says is, "Give me some warning, would you? I've been bugging my mom all week about taking it for so long and not washing it, and it turns out you had it all along." He shakes his head and laughs. "Letting my mom be the scapegoat, that's just evil."

Then Ned laughs again, and Peter laughs too, and it's nice and comfortable and good.

Ned's clothes are nice in a way that May and Ben's can't be, in that they're big and warm and soft and when he wraps them around him, they can cover his whole body, head to toe, whereas May's and Ben's are mostly long sleeves and slightly loose.

He doesn't wear Ned's as often (he doesn't need to, he sees Ned at school, then afterwards he's in his spidey gear and at home he likes to sleep in Ben's old shirts), partially because he doesn't have as much opportunity to get it, anyways.

Sometimes, if it's really bad, and he can't stand wearing his own clothes (because part of him is trying), they'll go to gym class and when they leave, he'll take Ned's jacket and Ned will be stuck with just a t-shirt until the end of school (or Peter's episode).

There are a lot of times where Ned will catch Peter curled up in some corner or frozen on the ceiling and walls, breathing but not breathing and trying so hard but the air just won't come out and his head is dizzy and his breath is catching and his chest is thrumming and he can hear everything but hear nothing, and Ned knows that he can't touch Peter so he just pulls off his sweater and stretches his arm out, quiet and accepting and patient (and sometimes Peter thinks that Ned's too good for him, but he never says it out loud because he knows that Ned will just roll his eyes and make an argument strong enough that it will somehow prove him wrong and make him laugh).

Then Peter will sling it over his shoulders, too thin for the wide shirts that Ned wears but taking comfort in them all the same, arms slipping through sleeves and burying his face in the collar and just breathing it in, feeling it, warm and soft and _Ned_ , and while it doesn't make everything perfect, it helps.

Ned'll tell him to breath, slow and steady and his voice just cutting through the overwhelming haze that's the world, and Peter will listen, follow his instructions, _in, out, in, out, just focus on my voice.._.

And when it's all over and done, Peter laughs and says that the sweater smells like chips and asks, acting wounded, why Ned didn't share, and Ned knows that Peter just uses humor as a front at those times but he accepts it and goes along with the farce (because if he doesn't, Peter won't quite know what to do) and ribs Peter back (though sometime's he's a bit too shaken and promises in the sappiest voice ever that Peter can have some next time, for sure, and Peter will just sort of stand there and do that thing where he tries not to cry and fails miserably).

"You know, you can't get rid of me." Ned grins, wide and comforting and utterly familiar. "I'll always be in your head, as your guy in the chair."

And Peter knows, understands intellectually, and they're working on it mentally, bit by bit, as he smiles back, tired but comforted and agrees, soft and sappy, "Yeah."

Ned, for his part, knows that Peter's not quite ready to stop wearing his clothes.

(So if he keeps an extra shirt in his locker, then, well, who can judge him?)


	4. Tony

Mr. Stark kind of makes fun of him for it sometimes, first raising an eyebrow when Peter steps into the lab wearing clothes that are very distinctly _May's_.

"Exploring both extremes on the gender spectrum, Pete?" He asks dryly as he tosses Peter his newly upgraded web shooters. "I'm totally fine with it if you're trans, but if you're going to try looking like a girl, at least find some clothes that fit. If you want, I can ask Pepper to go shopping with you."

Turning bright red, Peter managed to squeak out a small, "No, I'm fine," as he fumbled with the web shooters and attempted to regain his normal sounding voice. "I mean, Mr. Stark, I'm completely comfortable with my gender."

"Right." Tony raised an eyebrow, "Look, kid, I'm not judging, I'm cool with it either way, but just let me know if you need _the Talk_ , and I'll..."

" _No,_ Mr. Stark!" Groaning, Peter buried his face in his hands. "The shirt's May's, okay?"

"Kid, I know that you're poor, but..."

"Mr. Stark, I'm not trans." Peter sighed as he pulled his face out of his hands and raked a hand through his hair. "I just feel more comfortable in May's clothing."

"...Kid..."

"Not just May's!" Peter hurried to add at Tony's disbelieving expression. "And it's _not_ because I have gender dysphoria! I just, I..." He groaned and made a vague waving motion with his hands. "I'm just more comfortable wearing clothes that remind me of other people, okay? Like, these pants are Ned's."

Tony squinted and them, and nodded. "Yeah, they're a bit baggy. Going for the hipster look, then?"

Peter groans, Tony laughs, and they talk a bit more about Peter's sexual identity (Tony gets a bit too close to serious and Peter is feeling really awkward when Tony talks about how, guy or girl, he'll accept anyone who Peter wants to date and Peter would just really rather not talking about dating with his mentor figure) but they sort of leave it at that.

Except on the way out Tony notes that it's kind of chilly outside and Peter, being oblivious, nods and sort of just reaches out to pull on one of Tony's workshop's, greasy green jackets.

And somehow they don't really notice, Tony just absentmindedly waving goodbye and Peter slipping the jacket over his skin as though it were his all along.

(He does that a lot, come to think of it.)

It's not really until he goes to school the next day and Ned goes, "Again, Peter?" that he realizes he's still wearing Tony's jacket.

And he completely _freaks out_.

"This has got to be super expensive!" Peter babbles on the walk home, shoving his face on his backpack and throwing his head dramatically with all the works. "If I wreck it a bit, then Mr. Stark might have to... _Mr. Stark!_ After everything he's done for me, I just up and _steal_ his clothes and..."

"Chill, dude." Ned rolled his eyes as they stopped by the bread shop and Peter ordered his usual sandwich. "You didn't freak out when you stole my clothes."

"That's because I do it all the time."

"You were totally cool with it the _first_ time you did it."

"Yeah, well," Peter hesitated, and pulled out his sandwich, taking a bite as he shrugged and responded, "You're chill with stuff like that."

"And Mr. Stark isn't?"

"He took away my _suit_ before, what if he does it again?"

"He won't, man."

"He _could_." Peter's voice dropped to a whisper, and he muttered, "What if I wreck it, and he makes me _pay_ for it?"

Ned raised an eyebrow, and stopped completely, grabbing both of Peter's shoulders as he demanded, "Dude, seriously?"

Peter hesitated, and sighed sulkily, "Okay, maybe not that, but still..."

"It's _fine,_ man. Just go and talk to him."

So he did.

And somehow he ends up with one of Tony's super expensive watches.

"Look, kid," Tony sighed, and pinched the bridge of his nose. "As great as it is that my clothes make you feel safe..." His expression twitched, like he was still trying to understand the idea, "I can't have you stealing my wardrobe left and right, as you're so obviously doing with everyone else..."

(It's true. He's wearing Ned's _Teen Titans_ shirt and May's mermaid yoga pants.)

"...So I figured it'd just be better to give you one thing, and that'll be it, 'kay?"

Peter nodded, a bit awestruck and a billion times thankful.

So he keeps the watch on his wrist at all times (except when he's sleeping... and even that's only sometimes), and it grounds him, heavy but light and obviously _there_ but never a hindrance, and it feels that much safer.

(The fact that it shoots webs and lasers and has Karen in it may have something to do with it.)

(But the smell, metallic and kind of like beer but also like ice and laundry detergent and junk food reminds him of Tony, and whenever he pauses he can listen to it ticking and the world doesn't seem so overwhelming anymore.)

(So, yeah, it makes him feel safe.)

(But not just because of the lasers.)


	5. MJ

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I'm not your free washing machine."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I only have one more chapter left and I'm not emotionally prepared to leave this story behind.

MJ knows about it.

Of course. She knows _everything_ , and Peter still hasn't dismissed the idea that she's psychic or something.

She doesn't really comment, just calls him a dweeb and goes back to her book, which, really, just about sums up his relationship with MJ.

Then they sort of do that thing where they get closer and she starts just casually sitting across from him and Ned one day and they sort of gape at her but she just raises an eyebrow and they roll with it, then it keeps happening, and, well...

It just snowballs from there.

She stops calling them idiots, and if Ned doesn't get something, she rolls her eyes and tells him the page number and book where he can find it, and when when they say thanks she sort of snorts and calls them stupid and, well, it's not quite the typical kind of affection, but this is MJ so Peter figures this is something that would be super affectionate coming from anyone else.

So Peter starts buying her random tea and Ned discusses fan theories with her and she gets those times where she gets so caught up in a discussion with them that she forgets to call them stuff like "dork" and "idiot" and just _lights up_ but acts chill afterwards.

Then one day she just comes into class, pulls off her jacket, and tosses it at Peter. "Enjoy." She says, raising an eyebrow, and Peter doesn't even need to ask _why_ , just kind of feels his face burning and pulls it on with everyone watching.

Rumors of them dating escalate, but obviously he keeps wearing Ned's clothes, too, so people are speculating that it's a threesome.

(It's so, _so_ awkward.)

When they finally get a chance to talk without everyone watching (in the cafeteria, where everyone watches, but Peter can pretend they're not, as opposed to the classroom, where everyone's pretty obvious), Peter raises an eyebrow at MJ and notes, "It's missing a sleeve."

(It is. It's a nice, neat, black and white striped dress jacket that has one sleeve extending to the elbow and the other just _not there_.)

"I bought it like that."

MJ says it so deadpan that Peter is honestly wondering whether or not she's lying or telling the truth.

"It's okay if I'm your, like, charity donation box." He says, feeling a bit awkward.

She makes a face at him, baffled and irritated and bored all at the same time. "Dude, no. I'm expecting that back, and _washed_ , by the end of the week."

(Come to think of it, MJ has a weird fashion sense, so maybe she ripped it off to make a stand or something like that. He wouldn't put it past her.)

Peter stares, and is suddenly aware of the smell of MJ on the shirt, the way that the faded books and wood of a bookshelf and the dust of a corner clings to it, embedded like the shirt's made of it, then there's also spaghetti and microwave lasagna and instant noodles and cafeteria smell on it and he realizes that she must have been wearing it for at least two days.

" _Oh_ ," He realizes, kind of stupefied. "I'm not your donation box, I'm your _washing machine._ "

MJ sort of shrugs and grins at him, wide and mischievous and bright. "You'll wash it for free, so why not?"

"I'm not a free washing machine." He's not _sulking_ , he's not.

(Okay, fine, maybe he is.)

"Right." MJ took a sip of her water. "And I'm not a feminist. We both know that you'll wash it, and we both know that you have some sort of weird thing going on where you don't wear your own clothes, so why not?"

" _MJ_!" Ned groans, horrified. "We're trying to break him _out_ of it!"

"Why?" MJ shrugged. "Sure, it's a sign that he's mentally unstable, but we already knew that, and if he likes it, why not?"

Ned buries his face in his hands and _groans,_ and Peter does a kind of weird thing where he makes a weird giggly but nervous sound.

(He wears it to school, the next day, and washes it at night, bringing it back nice and crisp and neat, all folded up in a little bag.)

(MJ strips off her pale pink jacket that looks suspiciously like a pajama top and tosses it at Peter in retaliation.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMIGOSH GUYS I FORGOT TO MENTION all of Michelle's clothes described here are real. The shirt without a sleeve can be found here: https://dayabyzendaya.com/products/stripe-asym-top and it's designed by Michelle's actress.


	6. Peter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "No matter who you're with or where you are, you'll always be Peter Parker."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yaaaay, early update. Not because I'm nice. I'm sick, so, I have to sleep early. Take care of myself and stuff. You guys need to take care of yourselves, too. Uuugh, I'm oversharing. Sorry, just go ahead and read on.

He wears his own shirt to school one day... his own, honest to goodness shirt, that fits him and has a bad science pun on it, and he's wearing his own pants and he looks...

Well, to be completely honest, he just looks like a nerd. A ripped, fit, nerd.

He's awkward and gangly and the way he moves is like he's still not quite comfortable in his own skin.

Flash teases him mercilessly when he notices what Peter's wearing ("What, nerd, your girlfriend get sick of you and decide to get a man?") and while Peter usually just sighs and tries to brush past it, he kind of just shrinks in on himself and stares at his toes.

Flash teases him some more, but MJ and Ned can tell, watching him, that he's a bit uncertain about it, too, and eventually he just walks away, casting nervous glances at Peter.

"I'll handle him," MJ sighed, blowing a piece of hair out of her eyes as she glanced at Ned. "Stick here, nerd."

Something conflicted flickered over Ned's features before he sighed and agreed lightly, "Yeah, okay."

"Hey, loser." MJ raised an eyebrow as she sat on the chair in front of Peter. "What's up? You're all..." She made a vague gesture at Peter, and he made a nervous shrugging motion.

"I don't know. I wanted to try today, to, well, you know..." He made an equally vague gesture, and a small sound of frustration at the back of his throat. "But I just can't... it's not..." He frowned and scowled at his hands. "I feel like I'm... just me."

MJ snorted and flicked his forehead. "Maybe you didn't notice," She raised an eyebrow and smirked at him. "But you _are_ just you. What, did you think you were some crazy mishmash of multiple personalities?"

Peter made a sound that might have been a laugh, but it was a bit too small and nervous to really seem like one. "I just... I forgot." He sucked in a deep, long breath. "Forgot how it feels to be alone."

MJ rolled her eyes and leaned back on her chair, stacking her feet up on Peter's desk. "Yeah, well, too bad for you, we're never letting you remember." She paused, and wrinkled her nose. "Wait, no, that sounded sappy. I take it back."

Peter laughed at that, a slightly fuller, louder sound that seemed to startle himself. "Yeah, I know. It's just... different. It's like, now... it's like it's all on me, now."

"What's all on you?" MJ raised an eyebrow, tilting her chin up as she leaned forwards ever so slightly. "Saving the world? Because I hate to break it to you, but whether or not you can sense us with your freaky abilities, you're stuck with us."

Seeming to have fulfilled her kindness quota for the day, she quickly pulled her legs off of his desk and stood up, hitting him lightly over the head with her book as she went back to her seat.

"Loser."

Peter inhaled the smell of MJ as she passed, old books and wooden shelves and microwave food and figured, _alright, I can let go of this for a while_.

He didn't need MJ's clothes to hear her calling him a loser, so maybe he didn't need anyone's clothes for them to stick with him.

* * *

Ned caught him on the way home, practically skipping over to Peter as he asked, half concerned but mostly excited, "Dude, are you feeling better?"

Peter gave an uncharacteristic shrug and answered, "I think so. It's so weird, though, having to wear something that fits me so well." He frowned and looked down at his clothes. "And it smells weird, too."

"Whoa, right, you have, like, super cool Spidey-senses." Ned sighed wistfully, pulling his books closer to his chest as he murmured, "Man, I wish I was like that. So, like, it doesn't smell like us anymore, right? What does it smell like?"

Peter lifted his shirt up to his nose and sniffed it. "Gross." He admitted, wrinkling his nose and pulling the collar away from his face. "It smells like food and sweat and the chem lab."

"So, it smells like you." Ned concluded, bobbing his head into a nod. "Yeah, that makes sense."

Peter groaned, and lifted his arm to sniff himself. "Do I seriously smell this bad? Ugh, Aunt May's right, I _do_ need to shower."

Ned snickered and answered teasingly, "Hey, you're the one who said it, not me."

At Peter's miffed expression, he put up both his hands and laughed. "It's weird," Peter mumbled as he put the collar down carefully. "Feeling like I don't have one of you guys near me."

Ned shrugged and tapped his finger against his chin. "Maybe we're not, like, physically near you, but we're still with you. We're still going to be here, it's not like we can just disappear."

"Right." Peter closed his eyes and rubbed his hand against the back of his neck. "I just..."

"Forgot?"

"...Worry."

Ned frowned, and reached out to bump his knuckles against Peter's. "How is having our clothes on your back going to protect us?" He asked quietly, dead serious yet still sounding slightly childish.

Peter puffed out his lips and blew out a frustrated sigh. "I... I don't know. I just... it comforts me to remember that I've seen you alive. It's like an unspoken promise, you know? Like, a 'you won't die until I give you your shirt back' type of situation."

"Then there we go." Ned stopped walking, and Peter froze along with him, ignoring the crowd bumping past them. "I promise to not die until we're old and have white hair and knobbly knees and we troll kids by acting super embarrassing."

Peter laughed at that, forgetting for a moment about what they'd been talking about before. "Can you imagine Spider-man, with white hair and a cane, going around and still making bad guys afraid?"

Ned leaned over and made a pinched expression, changing his voice to a low and whiny groan of, "Now, sonny, put the gun down or you get a time out. Thwip, thwip!"

They laughed a bit until they felt sick, and fell into more comfortable conversations on the walk home.

"But seriously," Ned readjusted the strap on his backpack, and offered Peter a serious stare. "You can keep wearing our clothes if you need to. Just know that, whether or not you wear our clothes, everything will be okay."

"Yeah." Peter offered Ned a small, bright smile. "Okay."

( _I promise._ Peter held the words close to his chest, unable to keep the smile from bursting onto his lips every time that he thought of it. _Ned will be fine. The rest of them, too._ )

* * *

He keeps the watch, but he goes to meet up with Tony in his own clothes and Tony only raises an eyebrow and goes, "Finished with your identity crisis, kid?"

Peter splutters and exclaims, "It _wasn't_ an identity crisis!"

But all Tony does is wave a hand, raising an eyebrow as he skeptically snorts, "Sure, kid, keep telling yourself that."

Peter crossed his arms over his chest. "I will." He pouted, jutting his chin out and sighing, and just looking overall very much like a moody teenager.

"Right. So, kid, what did you find out about yourself?"

Peter frowned over his menu. "Mr. Stark, I didn't go on a meditation retreat, I just changed what I was wearing. It's no big deal."

Tony's eyebrow inched a bit higher.

Peter rolled his eyes, exasperated, and muttered, "I'm a dork that sweats a lot."

"Good answer." A waiter came over to their table and set down a few burritos in front of Tony. "But we already knew that about you."

Peter shuffled awkwardly in his seat again, before sighing, "I like to hide. When I wear clothes that fit me, I feel open and exposed when really all I'm doing is wearing something that works with me and not someone else."

"Wait, kid, stop." Tony choked on his burrito as he held up a hand. "This is getting way too close to the emotions zone, okay? I'm not cool with the... the emotions zone. I'm still constructing it, so we're just going to back off a little and..."

" _Mr. Stark_." Peter groaned, somewhat impatiently. "You were the one who asked me about it."

"Yeah, but you're confiding in _me_!" Tony gestured at himself. "Like, kid, I'm sorry, but do you see who you're talking to? The guy who can't handle emotions, that's who! The guy who has no idea what he's doing! You can't just _do_ that!"

Peter raised his eyebrows, mimicking Tony's previous expression. "You pushed, Mr. Stark."

"I did, didn't I?" Tony groaned, and tipped his head back. "Let me get you a therapist."

"Get yourself one."

"Bug off, kid." Pause. _Decisively._ "Pun intended."

Laughter.

_(This is what I've found. I've found that I don't like showing myself. I feel exposed. I like hiding. I like ducking behind other people's backs or keeping them at mine's. I'm terrified of being alone. I cling like crazy. I try to be like others. I forgot for a while who Peter was, in trying to figure out who Spider-man should be. But I'm trying to find him, and this is one step closer. Except I can't say any of this out loud, because apparently Mr. Stark is a hypocrite who can't deal with emotions.)_

(Maybe, some things, he just didn't need to say out loud to know that they were true.)

(Maybe he didn't need to say it out loud, since he was leaving behind that scared kid who wanted to hide.)

Peter was comfortable like this.

* * *

May took him shopping a little while later.

"You don't like any of your clothes," She shrugged when Peter whined about it. "At least, not really. Not yet. So we're getting you whatever you want. Something that makes you feel safe."

And Peter can't really argue with that, so he just breathes in the scent of their home (dead flowers and electric sparks and takeout and something distinctly _May_ and _Peter_ and familiar and good) and sighs, "Okay."

He's been sighing a lot lately, he thinks.

"Hey, Peter," May pulled out a shirt with the words 'AU fanfiction is pure gold'. "What about this?"

Peter instantly lit up and bounded over, before frowning. "It's too small."

May raised an eyebrow, and pressed it against the front of Peter's chest. "It's perfectly your size."

"Yeah. Right." Peter frowned at the shirt, as though it were something bad.

May lowered the shirt, and offered Peter a small, but still bright smile. "How about we get a shirt one or two sizes bigger?"

"No..." Peter shook his head, and reached out to take the hanger from May. "I, I want to try this."

May beamed at him and ruffled his hair. "Find what makes you comfortable, okay?" She murmured into his hair. "Don't push yourself."

"I won't." Peter promised, squeezing her hand. "But I can't keep relying on you guys forever."

"Rely all you want." May snorted, rolling her eyes as though to say, _teenagers_. "This isn't about relying on us. This is about trusting yourself."

"But I'm better when I'm with you guys." Peter was ino

"No matter who you're with or where you are, you'll always be Peter Parker."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm, uh, done. That's sad. Good, I guess. I dunno. I liked writing this, so. Yeah. Man, for a writer, I sure suck with words. I've already got the first chapter for my next Homecoming fic written, so, yay. Yeah. That's, um, it. Thanks for reading.


End file.
